


Learning Curve

by Zulu_Victor - ZVA (vannja)



Series: theProjectAva's Emperor!Keith AU [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emperor!Keith AU, Extremely Dubious Consent, Keith is done with this shit, M/M, Mentioned klance, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reference to Erectile Dysfunction, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and/or - Freeform, i've marked the sections inside, so you can skip those if you'd like and just read their summaries in the notes, unhealthy co-dependancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannja/pseuds/Zulu_Victor%20-%20ZVA
Summary: Keith is pretty good at learning from his mistakes, and in the first year of his reign as Emperor, he makes his fair share of them, but there are five lessons he learned the hard way that will follow him to his grave-- or five times Emperor Keith screwed up, and the one time he kinda didn’t.





	1. 5. Never Let Them Think You're Weak

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the last installment for this series that I'm going to be doing, but it's 6 chapters and you'll be getting an installment everyday until it's done! I've got other things that need doing, so I may dabble back into this from time to time, but we'll have to see. Thanks again to [@theprojectava](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/) for letting me run away with this! (pokes at the [awesome Sheith art](https://theprojectava.tumblr.com/post/170882466053/hips-swaying-they-moved-slowly-in-the-soft-glow) and gives a shameless self plug for my take on [Champion!Shiro](https://zva-redink.tumblr.com/post/171023662697/because-i-wanted-to-practice-my-pencil-shading))

The first time he royally messed up (Shiro’s voice in his head dropped a mother of all puns about him being royalty, now) he hadn’t even realized he had messed up. 

But, like always, everyone else seemed to. 

He was just getting used to the routine they were developing- wake up, eat food while Kolivan appraised him of some last minute immediate issues that had popped up the night before, sit in the war room for what felt like hours while commanding officers came and went trying to appeal in some way shape or form that their views on what the Empire should be doing was the right way, spar with either Shiro or Kolivan until he could barely move, shower, pass out. 

It was a pretty simple way of doing things, and Keith was already going stir crazy. He wasn’t good at the BS dancing around that Allura and Shiro- and even Lance to a lesser extent- had been natural at. He had spent the last two years of his life fighting in a war, and his body still called for it. He didn’t enjoy having to sit there and attempt to look interested with whatever galra CO (and probable war-criminal) of the week telling him that they needed to take back ‘their’ outposts. That they needed to continue ‘their’ crusade. That the galra shouldn’t have to drop themselves to the level of the ‘lower-class’. 

After the 10th person who came in to tell him how to do his job (a job he didn’t even fucking *want*) in *one* day, he stood up without thinking, unclasped his cape, and marched straight for the doors, not even noticing the horrified look on both Kolivan and Shiro’s face. “You think you can do better? Have *fun*!”

Saying that went badly was an understatement. 

He was almost immediately rushed, his words being taken as a challenge he hadn’t expected, so when he was body-slammed from behind...needless to say he had the wind knocked out of him rather embarrassingly. 

He shoved into the grip at the feeling of a blaster against his back. A goddamn *blaster*. The shot seared his side, and he would have been in real big trouble if he hadn’t been wearing his armour. He let the pain, the frustration of the last several weeks push him into using the wall he had been slammed face-first into to plant his feet and send him and the would-be assassin slamming backwards into the ground, using his momentum to roll back off. 

His luxite blade flipped into his fingers, extending to it’s full length (and he *really* was wishing he hadn’t left his bayard with Red), pausing just long enough to assess the situation, lips pulled away from his teeth at his assailant. “If you don’t want the throne…” was said, the Galra’s own lips pulling back and fur along the back of his neck fluffing. Instinctual intimidation. Keith wasn’t impressed. His eyes darted behind him when he heard the shuffle just outside of his peripherals, and the second attack he was more prepared for. He used his size to easily duck under the blade swiped above him, grabbing the second assailant’s sword arm to toss the soldier over his shoulder into the one with the blaster. His sword came up to meet a third, and he glanced over at Shiro and Kolivan. 

Shiro had his hand on Kolivan’s arm, the Blade of Marmora leader had his ears pinned back obviously prepared to rush into battle for Keith, but was otherwise obeying the grip on his arm. 

Shiro was simply staring at him, mouth pressed into a line that looked like he was trying to avoid frowning (or *grinning*) and the veins surrounding his right eye a sickly burst purple.

It had been happening more often recently. 

Shiro mouthed out two syllables. Vrepit sa.

Victory or Death.

Luckily, in his distraction, the Galra with a gun hadn’t taken aim, but Keith did take a punch directly to the face that sliced his lip open, the paw so large it slammed his nose, and he was probably going to have a black eye as well. Brought back to the present, knowing no one was going to step in to save him, he spit blood into his attacker’s face, pulled the simmering rage and anger and focus that always bubbled beneath the surface but hadn’t had a real outlet since he’d been fighting for his life against Lotor. He ducked around where the sword was still locked on his own, dancing into the middle of the three to put himself exactly where he liked to be. 

In the middle of the battle. He had never been good at staying to the side, anyways.

Not holding himself back ment he went for more strikes to maim, permanent injury as opposed to just disabling his opponents, the warm tang of blood coating filling his nose even through the swelling he could already feel. Adrenaline was a familiar muse singing through muscle and bone, this dance so much more his speed than diplomacy, so much so that he almost didn’t notice cutting down the two that had jumped him last. The far off reaches of his mind wanted him to save the first one to challenge him for last… 

...in part because he wanted to hear the man beg. 

He knew he wasn’t going to get it. In jarring, random snippets to the beat of his pulse he remembered all the things Kolivan had informed him that the Galra respected. Their major philosophies. He knew that only a person stupid enough to *actually* think they could take him without Shiro and Kolivan would try and challenge his seat. 

Only the strongest survived. 

You keep what you kill. 

Vrepit sa.

As he stalked towards the last of his challengers, blood running down his face and armour, he felt a snarl work its way up his throat. The far off instincts he always shoved away as ‘galra-instinct’ that he never wanted to frighten the Paladins with. If he hesitated, he’d be dead from all the others in the room seeing him as weak. Or worse, they would rip try to rip Shiro to shreds as a former Paladin of Voltron without galra blood, and to assert their own strength. So he let those instincts work for him. Making him into a predator stalking his prey, enjoying every shiver and ignoring how crazed he probably looked. He couldn’t risk hesitation.

He had to protect Shiro. (He didn’t hesitate)

The feel of his sword cutting through bone and sinew rattled through his arm and to his shoulder, adding a more visceral spray to the blood already coating his armour. Depressingly familiar. 

“Anyone else want to take a shot?!” He snarled, his eyes dry from refusing to blink, to back down. He took a tempting step towards the galra whom were standing closest to him. 

They didn’t flinch, but their ears dropped back. Eyes tilted to the ground as he made sure to make eye-contact with each individual person in the room, letting the silence linger around the echo of his voice. 

Even Shiro and Kolivan, neither of whom he wanted to ever bow before him looked down, though there was a pleased smile on Shiro’s face. 

At least he had learned one of his most important lessons first.


	2. 4. Shiro Will Always Put You First...Even When He Shouldn’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. This...actually was hard for me to write. As a switch, consent is very important to me (pre-negotiated non-con is a completely different topic) and I had to re-write this several times. TW's for rough-sex and/or extremely dubious consent (borderline Non-Con, though it is left vague, so you decide.)
> 
> For **Tumblr** users, please see the beginning of Chapter 3 for the general summary. For **Ao3** , please select the 'end notes'.

After they had finally figured out what the hell they were going to do with all the Galra now falling over themselves to bow to him, things became slightly easier. 

Kolivan had been the one to mention the Zarkon Loyalists that were still running around unchecked. Shiro had seemed to follow his lead and made comment about how it would be easier to take them out while they were still disorganized. Keith, finding he couldn’t actually fault that strategy (despite the chill that had creeped his spine at Shiro’s detached and cold delivery), had bluntly and without fanfare pointed out to the CO’s how they were going to divide their soldiers and remaining resources. 

This time, when he met opposition to his orders, he didn’t back down, instead followed the first instinct to snarl and bare sharp teeth. To point out that they actually needed the mining station the loyalists had holed up in, and he had more than enough practice spotting common Galra tactics that he was able to plot out where they were most likely to hole up, and how they were going to work backwards to make sure they were contained. Made it abundantly clear what kind of people they were going to take as prisoner and which ones were Kill on Sight. Let the commanders watch as he lined up traps to avoid all possible escape and layout any future plans for how they were going to track more cells if there were any. 

By the end of that first very successful meeting, he was being looked at with slightly more awe. 

The “Vrepit sa!” in his defference was much stronger. 

With a direction, the CO’s seemed quite a bit more receptive to his orders. With the knowledge that Keith wasn’t just jerking them around, being the strongest or not, made them much more...exuberant.

It was a strange thought. 

But unfortunately, that meeting lead to one of the best and worst nights of Keith’s life. 

“You did well, today.” 

Keith hid his glowing cheeks by wiping his face on the towel (or as close to a towel as they could get in space--it felt more like plastic) slung around his shoulders. He and Shiro were the last ones on this training deck designated for high-ranking officials, guests, and festival matches, and both were liberally dripping with sweat. 

“Thanks.” He said, taking a swig from the rubbery waterskin kept on hand, focusing on the way it felt in his hand and against his fingertips as opposed to looking too closely into Shiro’s words. 

“C’mon.” Keith looked up as Shiro made for the door. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”

“Do we need our armour?” Keith asked, though he was already moving to catch up with Shiro’s longer stride. Kolivan was usually the one insisting Keith needed to look his part perfectly, Shiro usually just giving a shrug and pointing out that it didn’t hurt for Keith to be seen as a fellow warrior, but tank-tops and nomex-kevlar trousers were even a bit underdressed for Keith. 

“There shouldn’t be anyone around at this hour.” Shiro informed, placing a hand on the small of Keith’s back as he turned down a hallway that Keith honestly didn’t recognize, taking a series of ramps up higher and higher in the ship. 

Shiro’s hand burned a brand against his skin that he had missed for so long, now.

As they hit the top of the deck, Keith looked around curiously. He barely had time to piss let alone explore, so he had been banking on the fact that at least Kolivan and Shiro generally knew where they were going in the ship, and Keith always knew emergency exit routes. This room, however, looked quite a bit different from the rest. For one, the entire wall opposite of them was pitch black panels, curved outwards. The only lighting a soft luminescent glow from the runners along the wall and a single light above the door’s interior keypad, as opposed to the blinding vertical lights pressed into the walls. 

“Opacity set to 10 percent.”

The opposite wall slowly dimmed, Keith letting out a noise of surprise when he realized it was a wall of glass, that they had climbed into one of the monolith’s legs and were now overlooking where the flagship was hovering over the planet they had chosen as their home-base: one of the only planets who had refused the Voltron coalition as they had been *very* well treated by the Galra Empire over the years. 

The sight was breathtaking. 

The ship’s orbit of the planet had this system’s star- a blue giant half the size of their home solar system- just beginning to hide behind the planet, the atmosphere a vibrant line bouncing light in a rainbow of colours as it slowly rotated on its axis, the ship following along the gravitational spin. 

“Wow…” Keith said. 

“You’ve been stressed lately.” Shiro said. Keith glanced over at him, feeling his stomach lurch at the sight of the almost black veins around Shiro’s right eye. What had been something that had come and gone were now permanent, and though the periodic bleeding from that eye had completely stopped, Keith was still horrifyingly worried. 

He knew he’d break apart if Shiro left him again. 

But even with all that...the sight of Shiro against the backdrop? “It’s gorgeous.”

Shiro glanced over, never breaking parade-rest, and Keith had to look away sharply before he had another leak in his brain-to-mouth filter. The hand on his back made him jump, fingers lightly trailing down his spine. 

His traitorous breath was already speeding up. 

“Whatever you want...all you have to do is ask,” was muttered close to his ear, sending shivers up and down Keith’s spine. 

This was a terrible idea, but Keith was pretty much the king of terrible ideas. 

He also wasn’t known for his self-control. 

He had one arm around Shiro’s waist and the other tangled in his hair to crush their mouths together, Shiro’s tongue turning their pace into a battle as his arms came around Keith and drug them together, before Keith’s brain could properly process the leap between thinking and doing.

“Fuck…” Keith gasped, pulling away from Shiro to suck in sharp breaths. “This...this is a bad idea…” he said, even as Shiro’s hands settled onto his hips and thigh pressed against where he was already hard. 

“You have...no idea what you looked like in there…” was breathed against his neck in response, and this felt like a violent role reversal where Keith had been the one trying to convince Shiro to do more then some kissing and light grinding at the Garrison (and only because Shiro had discovered Keith had been lying about his age before they could do anything). The thigh against his cock pressed a bit harder, and his hips jerked with a moan. “Watching you make them obey...so much *strength*...”

“Shiro…*shit*.” He hadn’t realized he had been digging his fingernails into the back of Shiro’s neck until he had to physically uncurl his fingers. “S-sorry…”

Teeth bit into his neck, much harder then Shiro normally did, and Keith growled, rutting down against the muscled thigh, before returning the bite against the arc of Shiro’s shoulder. 

“Anything you *need*...” was breathed against his neck, and Keith…

...he wasn’t proud to say that he snapped. 

Sure, he and Shiro had fumbled around some. At first, Shiro had been adamant about waiting, especially after he figured out that the Cadet he was kissing was only 16 to his 24, but Keith had found the traditionalism more charming than anything else (and had seen it as a blatent *challenge*). But then Kerberos, and after that there had been the war, and they hadn’t managed to get much further then fumbled handjobs and grinding together until Shiro was flushed insanely red from the embarrassment of coming in his pants or down his knuckles like a teenager. 

That wasn’t how tonight was going to end, if he got his way. 

“You…” He shoved Shiro firmly against the glass, hand wrapped in Shiro’s tank-top, leaving bites on anything he could reach- neck, bottom lip, jaw, shoulder.... “Fuck...Shiro, I want all of you…*everything*…”

Shiro’s hips rolled against his, and he closed his eyes and moaned, before dragging their lips back together. Shiro moaned, Keith pulling back only long enough to get Shiro’s shirt up and off, digging his fingers into the planes of hard-earned muscle, Shiro’s hands fumbling for a moment before pulling Keith’s shirt off, tracing scars and sharp angles of bone and muscle. Shiro dropped to his knees, hands getting the releases of Keith’s pants undone and pulling them down and out of the way just enough that he could get his mouth on the underside of Keith’s cock. 

Keith moaned, low and harsh, tracing his fingers across sharp angled brows, where crows-feet had started to form at the corners of Shiro’s eyes, across the edge of the faded scar across the bridge of Shiro’s nose. 

“Fuck...beautiful…”

A flush painted across Shiro’s cheeks, before he brought Keith’s hand to the longer strands of hair on the top of his head. A tongue drug up along the vein of Keith’s cock, digging into the slit where he was already leaking an embarrassing amount. “Take it…” Shiro said, voice already sounding hoarse before he dropped his jaw open, the head of Keith’s cock resting on his bottom lip. 

Keith’s breath stuttered on a moan and a harsh suck of air, before he rocked his hips forward slowly. “Shit...Shiro…” 

Keith went slow, more then aware that he wasn’t...small. 

He could remember back to the Castle of Lions, the first time Shiro had gotten his hands down his pants, had gone immediately beat red as even his larger hands barely wrapped around Keith’s cock. 

Inch by inch he rocked in, acutely aware of his own moans bouncing at the walls back at them in a continuous stream, before Shiro’s hands wrapped around his hips, and he pulled Keith in, straight to the back of his mouth, pressing his tongue to the underside of Keith’s cock. 

Saliva coated Shiro’s lips as Keith pulled back out enough, smearing the wetness down his cock on the next thrust to make an easier glide for the one after that. 

Shiro’s eyes slipped closed and a moan rumbled around Keith’s cock, his hips jerking in response and the only thing saving Shiro’s head from knocking the glass was the hand Keith had on the back of his head. “F-fuck...s-sorry...” Keith gasped when Shiro choked slightly, watching Shiro lick his lips as Keith hung directly in front of his face, cock dripping with strings of Shiro’s spit and Keith’s precome. 

The hands at his hips directed him forward again, and Shiro looked up, lashes lowered. “I said…*take* it.” Shiro panted. 

“Y-yeah, okay...alright…” Keith’s cock throbbed, and from the pleased expression on Shiro’s face he had felt it, but Keith tightened his hand in Shiro’s hair anyway, rocking his cock back into Shiro’s mouth. 

Shiro tilted his head back further, dropping his shoulders forward so he wasn’t pressed against the glass, Keith’s dick pointed down slightly. The next thrust went straight down Shiro’s throat, a pleased hum rattling its way up Keith’s cock and into his ribs

Keith was going to lose his mind. 

His hips snapped forward, pressing his cock further and further into the flutter of Shiro’s throat. Fuck, he could *see* his cock stretching out Shiro’s throat and without thinking he pressed his hand to the column of Shiro’s neck, growling when he felt his cock make Shiro’s muscles part for him. Shiro made a breathless noise every time he had enough space to do more then suck in breaths through his nose. 

Keith wasn’t going to last. 

He pulled out, wrapping a hand tight around the base of his cock and tightening his hand in Shiro’s hair when he made to dart forward and take Keith back to his mouth. “N-no…”

Shiro stopped, eyes dragging up Keith’s form to look him in the eye. “I...not yet. Fuck shiro...I want to…”

“Fuck me.”

Keith’s eyes snapped open from where they had slid half closed, and he squeezed his cock tighter. Shiro looked absolutely wrecked, chin covered in spit, smeared across his cheeks where his face was finally coming down from the red flush he had developed literally choking on Keith’s cock…

...if he continued down that train of thought he was going to come.

Keith bit his lip before he nodded, stepping back to get out of his clothes as Shiro stripped out of his. Keith pulled Shiro down to the floor with him, Shiro hissing slightly at the cold floor. “Sorry.” Keith said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Emperors’ don’t apologize…”

Keith snapped his eyes up to meet Shiro’s, the statement echoing like a strange syntax error in his brain. Instead, he meet a teasing look and an agressive grin as Shiro sucked his own fingers into his mouth, moaning lewdly around them. Keith bit his lip before he could moan at the show, directing his attention to nipping down Shiro’s chest, probably harder then he should have, but Shiro pressing up close to his mouth easing his nerves slightly. Keith sucked a mark on the v of Shiro’s hips, running his tongue beside Shiro’s still soft cock. 

It used to worry him in the past, until they had figured out that Shiro’s PTSD sometimes made him take a bit longer to get into the game then Keith’s own hair-trigger libido, but now, he knew all the places to press his hand, adding his tongue and finding he liked the taste, could breathe in the scent of Shiro as much as he wanted. Shiro’s hand slipped around, and Keith moaned as he watched him press a dripping finger straight to the knuckle without preamble. 

It knocked Keith’s breath out of him. 

He watched for an embarrassingly long time, watched Shiro take his own fingers, watched as Shiro’s body gripped the metallic digit before a second one was slid in beside the first. “Do you like watching me?” Keith’s eyes snapped up to where Shiro was biting his lip, flush high on his cheeks. 

Keith nodded dumbly. “Fuck Shiro...want you to feel *good*...” he said, running his other hand along Shiro’s muscular thigh, gripping tight at every spot that made him twitch as he continued to palm Shiro’s dick. Shiro’s breath stuttered, his fingers pressing up, and Keith turned his attention back to Shiro’s cock, sucking all along the shaft, paying special attention to just under the head as Shiro turned hard against him. 

And Keith really wanted to return the awesome blowjob, he did, but Shiro squirming on his own fingers kept distracting him. He leaned back, wrapping a hand around Shiro’s length, twisting his fist into a familiar rhythm as Shiro started leaking down the back of his knuckles. 

Keith couldn’t help it, slipping the fingers of his other hand into his mouth as he watched Shiro ride two of his own fingers, before he reached down and pressed a finger in along Shiro’s. He’d probably need more than this to take Keith...but…*shit*...

He felt like heaven. 

He had barely worked in the tip of the second finger along Shiro’s larger ones, before he had to pull his hand away, reaching down to wrap his hand back around the base of his cock, worried he was going to come embarrassingly fast just from the grip on his fingers. Shiro made a punched out sound, pulling his fingers out as well and rolling over onto his hands and knees. “Shiro…” 

“Like this…” Shiro said, spreading his knees obscenely and dropping to his forearms, giving Keith a teasing look over his shoulder.

“Shiro...you’re gunna need more prep--”

“I need to know how good I make you feel.”

Keith bit his lip, but nodded, using the precome now dripping into a steady stream to the ground to coat his cock, thankful for once that his Galra heritage made his precome incredibly lubricating. When Keith pushed in it was tight, and he had to bite the urge to come undone just from that. He tried to go slow, honestly truly did, but Shiro pressed back against him instantly, hips rolling sinfully until Keith was seated completely. 

Keith couldn’t breath. 

“Fuck! Please,” Shiro breathed, muscles tense and quivering. 

“Shiro...are you...?”

“Yes! Claim me!”

Keith’s eyes almost crossed at the heat that flared through his veins, and he reached forward to get a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, using his grip to rock into the impatient rhythm Shiro was trying to fuck himself back with. At this rate, Keith wasn’t going to last. 

Keith leaned forward, biting at the beautiful back muscles as they shifted to hold Shiro from being slammed to far forward by the pace. Sweat was beginning to drip down Keith’s face, the shine added to Shiro’s skin making Keith’s teeth slip where he continued leaving sucking marks into muscle and scar and skin. Keith shifted, his one leg coming up to brace a foot next to where Shiro’s knees were starting to slip wider, Keith picking up his pace brutally as his cock slid easier into Shiro’s clenching heat. 

This wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Fuck! Shiro…n-not gunna last...need you to *come*…fuck *please*…” Keith gasped, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead into Shiro’s spine. 

Shiro’s knees spread wider, his shoulders dropping to the ground as a moan was punched from him from the change in angle. Keith dug his nails into Shiro’s hips as he watched Shiro’s shoulder flex as he jerked himself off, the only thing holding him off the ground just enough to move his hand around his cock was his impressive muscle strength in his thighs. Just *that* slammed Keith straight to the edge. 

When Shiro came, he locked up, back curling forward and a hard panting moan echoing off the walls. The feeling, the *scent*, Keith’s body tensed, and his hips snapped through his orgasm, eyes rolling back as he rocked into Shiro several more times to ride out his orgasm, layering mindless darkening bites over Shiro’s back.

His back looked like a painting in *Keith’s* colours. 

He laid over Shiro for a moment, letting his brain reboot, before he noticed the shaking of Shiro’s thighs where they were supporting both of their weight. He pressed his hand beside Shiro’s hip to pull himself up, making a calming sound when he went to move his hips and Shiro made a noise of pain. “You ok?” Keith asked, flinching at the gruff sound of his own voice. 

“Fine.” Came the breathless reply. 

“Kay...ok...I’m…” keith hissed as he pulled back slightly, a gush of come rolling down both of their thights around his rapidly softening cock. He closed his eyes as Shiro’s body tried to suck him back in, hissing as he finally managed to get all the way out and sit back on his haunches. Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes. 

What he had thought had been only his own come leaking down their thighs was actually mixed with blood. Quite a bit of it. There shouldn’t have been blood. 

Keith thought he was going to puke. 

The resulting fight after that...Keith was also not proud to say he may have made things worse. 

Shiro had seemed to shut down. Telling Keith he was fine, over and over. 

Normally, at that tone, Keith knew to back off, to let them both calm down enough and talk about it later. But he normally didn’t have Shiro’s blood coating his dick. Normally, Shiro wouldn’t keep pushing himself past the point of obvious discomfort, as he made his way through pulling his clothes on with Keith’s come and his own blood streaking down his leg. Normally wouldn’t involve Keith demanding answers while Shiro kept silent, until a kiss pressed against his lips- was used to shut him up, and Shiro made a beeline to leave, limp hard in his step. 

Shiro didn’t answer his questions the day after. 

Or the week after that. 

It was probably the most disgusted Keith had ever felt in himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Shiro Will Always Put You First...Even When He Shouldn’t:  
> Keith and Shiro’s first hook-up. Keith becomes quite distraught at the idea that Shiro let Keith fuck him when it becomes apparent he might have just been doing it because he thought Keith ordered him too, or that it was his duty...especially when it appears that Keith may have hurt Shiro from the encounter.


	3. 3.  Never Ignore A Threat In Your Own Home

His third major mistake one he thought he’d never make. People who ignored the problems that were happening right in front of their faces in blatant ignorance always pissed him off. He had always been the person to call people out on their bullshit. Yet here he was, willfully ignoring the issues festering right under his nose. 

It had been obvious the moment Shiro had seen him with Lotor’s blood on his hands. 

It had been obvious leading up to before they had left the Paladins. 

It *should* have been even more obvious now, after the…*thing* that had happened in the observation room some odd weeks ago.

Keith had tried to respect his wishes, respect that Shiro didn’t want to become another guinea pig. Kolivan had been diligently working in the background, out of his own respect for Shiro. Using his old Blade resources, reports would appear periodically on Keith’s desk on what they could find of the Druid’s experiments, locations of any Druids still alive (which they were still striking out on--it was as if they had disappeared of the face of the *universe*), hell, even Ulaz’s old records that had been copied into the Blade’s databases had been cracked and left for him to either thumb through or pretend didn’t exist. After what Keith was dubbing as ‘the incident’, even *looking* at Ulaz’s old files made him want to vomit. He had burned it not long after it had been delivered, not wanting to partake in another massive breach of trust. 

Really though, he should have paid more attention to the shiver that ran up his spine when Shiro proposed violent and offhandedly cruel battle strategies in the most cold and detached manner. He should have learned by now to listen closer to his instincts.

Kolivan was to his side, going over another successful battle report against Zarkon Loyalists and what had been the start of a rebellion, when they heard the commotion. There was a ridiculous amount of cheering going on, loud enough to be heard through the double insulated metal doors.

Kolivan and Keith shared a look, before they ducked into the hallway, Keith more than thankful he had been able to start wearing lighter armour more and more often now that his authority wasn’t being questioned all the time. Both of them seemed to slip into their old Blade habits, Keith checking the corner while Kolivan kept an eye behind them as they made their way silently down the open hallway to where the noise bounced down the hallway. As they came up to the open archway that led to one of the lower training arenas, a mass cheer spread through the room. Keith was too short to see exactly what was going on, but the moment he saw Kolivan’s expression over the heads of all the bodies packed into the room (was his entire damn *ship* in here?), he searched around until he found a storage locker, ducking his way through the crowd and hauling himself on top, some of the nearest soldiers doing a double take and freezing in a way that would be hilarious if it wasn’t also worrisome. Suspicious. 

There wasn’t much in the way that the Galra found entertaining to *this* extent. 

Once he was on top, he felt his eyes go wide as he watched Shiro drop a Galra with a spinning back kick. The Galra was picked up by the crowd surrounding the ring, throwing him back into the center, claws swinging wildly from what was no doubt a very rattled brain. Keith winced, memory of being hit with one of those kicks a few months into being a Paladin by *accident* giving him a bad enough concussion to require a healing pod. Shiro dodged each swipe, hands up to protect his face, bending and twisting in a beautiful motion with his crimson cape swirling around him that had Keith’s stomach clenching, bile filling his throat in response to arousal mixed with fear. Keith gave his head a hard shake.

What was *wrong* with him?

He *needed* to stop this…

He launched down from his perch, pushing his way through the larger Galra, heart beating in his throat at the thought of Shiro being surrounded by so many Galra. At the fear of Shiro going down and those packed around him piling on to him, each one wanting Shiro’s spot at the Emperors side. To prove they were stronger than even the Black Paladin. The crowd parted for him at the edge of the ring to Shiro’s back, a growl already working its way up his throat to protect Shiro when he hit what was surely going to be one of the worst panic attacks he’d seen yet…

...and doing nothing as he didn’t see a hint of tension in Shiro’s shoulders. 

All his moves *flashy*--he hadn’t been cornered into this fight.

He was showing *off*. 

He waited till Shiro knocked his opponent out with a chop and jerk to the back of the neck with his Galra hand, the sickening crunch bring the bile from before back *violently*. 

That was senseless. 

It was cruel. 

“What the *hell* is going on here?!”

Immediately everything stopped, Shiro’s back straightening.

“Sparring.”

Keith blinked at Shiro...not actually sure if he was being serious or if he was doing something stupid like covering up for one of the Galra...but that wouldn’t make sense, he had just *killed* someone in front of Keith…

...for *no* fucking reason.

“This doesn’t look like *sparring*.” Keith said, avoiding looking away from Shiro’s eyes despite how *unnerving* his gaze was. 

When had Shiro’s right eye turned gold?

How had he *missed* something like that?

“I haven’t had the honour to spar with my Emperor in quite some time.” Shiro said, Keith just barely avoiding wincing at the reminder that he had been avoiding Shiro everywhere except for in the war room. “I needed more of a challenge.”

Keith physically balked at that, glancing around at the Galra pressed in around him. 

“You don’t generally *kill* when you *spar*!”

“He wanted my title. If anyone wants the title of *Champion*, they need to kill me for it.” Shiro stated, like it was the damn *weather*. “It’s only proper, that if he wanted to kill me,” a small smirk spread over Shiro’s face, “then *I* should be allowed to *defend* my title by killing.”

Keith felt his blood trying to drain as several hundred eyes turned to see his response. “If you want title matches it’s going to be by *my* rules.” Keith’s voice dropped to a chill, even as he struggled to keep it from shaking, brain whirring a thousand miles a second. There was no nice way to salvage *this* mess. “Anything more than sparring will be under *my* watch. You want your arena, you can have it, but our numbers are already low enough as it is. Save the *senseless* killing for our enemies. Do I make myself clear?”

There was some shuffling, and Keith could see Kolivan give him a nod from the back of the crowd. 

“AM I CLEAR?”

The room snapped to attention, a “Yes, Emperor!” echoing through Keith’s brain. 

“Get out. I don’t want to find out about anymore of this *shit* again.”

His deference was given, and the room began to clear out, two galra grabbing the body from the floor for proper disposal. Keith’s hand snapped out to grab Shiro’s arm before he could follow with the crowd, a slight frown on his face. “Not you *Commander*.”

Keith waited until the room cleared, before running his hands through his hair, feet starting to pace as his body screamed to get rid of all the energy, the *emotions* that were starting to boil around. 

Shiro remained dutifully at parade rest, even as Keith growled and swore until he had everything bottled back in, until he could *breathe* even remotely better again. 

The fist around his heart didn’t let go when he turned back to face Shiro. 

“Shiro…” the sadness welled up, along with memories and feelings and *everything* he had *done* for Shiro to this point. Everything Shiro had done for *him*, his hand reaching up to Shiro’s face without his consent “What...what *happened* to you?” 

He didn’t get a response, and he watched Shiro closely for any kind of reaction. Anything other than the twitch into Keith’s palm. 

“Shiro…?” he prompted, his breath coming shorter, stinging behind his eyes. 

“Shiro is gone,” Was breathed into his palm, and Keith? Keith’s whole world shattered further in a matter of moments. In the span of syllables passing lips that had always tasted like the cherry chapstick because the dessert had made Shiro’s lips crack and he knew Keith’s favorite flavour. 

“There’s only the *Champion* now, my lord.”


End file.
